


Such Great Heights

by Faustess



Series: Always in My Headspace [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes-centric, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Eavesdropping, Emotions, Hydra (Marvel), Loneliness, M/M, Memories, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-HYDRA Reveal, Snow, Threats of Violence, Unrequited Love, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/pseuds/Faustess
Summary: Rollins can't have a relationship with the person he wants, so he's trying to move on with someone else.  Maybe Rumlow doesn't take kindly to being the second-choice.Or, what Jack Rollins doesn't know might get him killed.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes & Jack Rollins
Series: Always in My Headspace [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551865
Kudos: 9
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Winter's Snowflakes





	Such Great Heights

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Winter Soldier Perched on Rooftop](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/705061) by Min1919. 



> Also fills Bucky Barnes Bingo:  
> Title: Such Great Heights  
> Square Filled: C1 - picture of Bucky Barnes/WS running with a rifle  
> Author: ME! Faustess  
> Pairing: Bucky Barnes & Jack Rollins (an unrequited ship on both their parts); Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow  
> Rating: Teen  
> Warnings: Brock threatens the Winter Soldier fairly graphically and is definitely a bad guy here. (Note: Rollins is not a bad guy in this series)  
> Summary: Rollins can't have a relationship with the person he wants, so he's trying to move on with someone else. Maybe Rumlow doesn't take kindly to being the second-choice.

The Winter Soldier crouched on the edge of the building toward where his target would be later. He wasn’t sure exactly when. The target would have a black knit winter hat and be at the coffee shop about half a mile away. Not a lot of detail, but the Commander had eyes on the ground and would supply the necessary details in time.

His rifle could make the shot easily. The Soldier had made more difficult shots at nearly four times the distance before. Still, something about the Commander’s tone of voice told him this wouldn’t be an easy mission.

The Commander had read him in, described the target, and said no support team would be required – a simple one-and-done. The distance from the coffee shop would be enough that he’d be able to get away quickly and without drawing undue attention to himself. Even if traditional law enforcement figured out where the shot had come from, there wouldn’t be any evidence to collect. All they’d have was a corpse and fragments of the bullet.

Still… the Commander had _enjoyed_ giving the order – hadn’t bothered to hide it. While he didn’t remember specifically _why_ , the Soldier knew that the dark glee behind the Commander’s contempt for him meant bad things.

There were wolves in the walls and this one needed to be put down. Did he understand? _Yes, sir._ Only, he’d said, “Da.” Even now, as the Soldier set up his nest and crouched, taking position, earpiece in place – waiting for the kill order – he still didn’t know which of Hydra’s officials he was there to take out. _Weak link protocol engaged._

The Commander checked in every few hours. And the Soldier waited. It had started to snow, making him glad he didn’t rely on a laser sight like new recruits did. _“You can’t hit it without the laser? What good are you? You get fog or snow – hell – even a cloud of dust and you draw a line right back to your hide site.”_ The Soldier didn’t remember which of his handlers had been yelling at a batch of new recruits, but it’d been funny, though he hadn’t laughed. After that kind of speech, sometimes the Asset watched the recruits shoot and picked the ones Hydra should invest their resources in. He was good at that – and a good teacher too – when the opportunity arose.

Fragments of past conversation drifted back to him. _“I had other students. Were they good?”_

_Cigarette smoke curled around the voice with the face he couldn’t quite remember. “Yeah. They were good. You got a nose for sniffing out the best ones.”_

_The Soldier had inhaled the secondhand smoke as deeply as he could without drawing attention to himself. He couldn’t smoke – not allowed – but his lips and fingers felt the ghost of cigarettes from …sometime… that danced away from him._

A knot formed in the back of his throat and the Soldier felt the muscles around his mouth and jaw tighten, but his face stayed neutral. Who knew who might be watching? He’d been observed by techs and his handlers on solo missions before. Besides, whatever he felt didn’t matter anyway.

He looked away from the target area to get one of the supplement bars from his backpack. He wouldn’t be able to make the shot if he got eye fatigue anyway. The Soldier had been on missions where he hadn’t been able to eat in his hide and was grateful for both the supplies and the opportunity. The Commander’s voice in his ear would tell him when to take the shot. He had time.

Ugh… the bar was chocolate chip. He hated chocolate chip-flavored things. They were _supposed_ to be treat foods – he knew that – but he hated them anyway. The Soldier was also fairly sure that the Commander had picked up on that somehow and that was why he now found himself with a bag of them in his supplies.

He remembered having the cloying sweetness and buttery chocolate taste still in his mouth, but nothing else about what had happened before – why he had that bad association with them. More pieces of conversation came back, though, with the same voice from before.

_“What’s wrong?”_

The memory was so vivid that it couldn’t be from that long ago. _Counting the stitches on his boots, looking down. The voice probably belonged to another handler. “What’s weak link protocol?”_

_"Weak link protocol is when there's a person in Hydra who was weak – who didn't have the strength to do what needs to be done – and so that link in the chain needs to be removed.”_

_He’d mumbled, not even peeking through his hair, “Or be an example?”_

_"If they're deemed still useful, yeah. Usually some place where a lot of people can see them, and everyone knows the story."_

A public execution – well, that would be a hell of a statement.

In his mind, the Soldier replayed the Commander’s briefing given just before they’d left.

“Would you like to know what happens if you don’t take the shot?” the Commander asked patronizingly. “If you fail this mission?”

The Soldier had not really wanted to know, but had nodded anyway.

"You'll be wiped. Wiped so much, so hard, at such a high setting your body won't be able to respond to your mind anymore. You'll be trapped in that head of yours, unable to do anything but breathe and blink, for the rest of your unnatural life. And every time you show so much of a hint of healing from that, you'll be back in the chair again. Displayed out in public for people to see so they know what happens when even the most useful of Hydra's fists fail." The Commander settled a hand on the Soldier's shoulder. "But hey, even as an example, you'll be useful."

He'd nodded because it was expected, but felt his skin crawl and decided that the Commander was in a bad mood and it probably had something to do with the weak link protocol mission.

“I’m glad you understand.” With another couple of pats on the Soldier’s shoulder, the Commander had walked away to check on their transport vehicle.

One of the techs in the room had started hyperventilating as soon as the Commander was out of earshot. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, that man is terrifying.”

At the time, the Soldier had been fairly sure he’d been threatened by more terrifying men than the Commander, but if so, he couldn’t remember them anymore. _There’s a poem about that_ , he thought. _About pride blowing away in the dust? Something with an O?_ Well, it didn’t matter anyway.

At any rate, he was sure that the Commander followed through on his threats. Having to stay still, emotionless, blank was bad enough, but not being able to move while being aware? Not even being able to wiggle or hope to get away…. And the Soldier couldn’t wring his hands ‘oh fuck oh fucking’ around. _Well, he wouldn’t fail. That’s all._

He’d been out of cryo too long. That had to be why he was having these bits memories trickle in and the tangle of emotions around them. They’d wipe him post-mission and take care of it, though.

“You still up there?” the Commander’s voice came through crystal clear in his earpiece.

“Da,” he replied.

“Wonderful.” The sound of the Commander’s breath told the Soldier that he was moving. “Your target just walked out of the coffee shop. Black wool coat, Hydra issue. He’s got a lapel pin – it’s a little rainbow flag. Got him?”

The Soldier wasn’t sure if he gasped or not. He hoped not. If he had, he hoped that the Commander hadn’t heard. He was grateful all over again for the mask and goggles. They covered his face, making him more intimidating to most of Hydra’s grunt soldiers that he worked with, but they also helped him keep his face expressionless.

Above the pin, the stubbled jawline and a scar to one side of the target’s chin. He knew the eyes behind the sunglasses were hazel with a piercing intensity. _Second Commander Jack Rollins._

 _No no no no no._ He swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek until well after he tasted blood. It wasn’t his choice. If he didn’t shoot, Rollins would die anyway and the Asset would make a spectacular display of failure. They’d both be as good as dead. _Please, no._

On the other hand, maybe this was just a test. The Soldier’s stomach dropped, and heart clenched at that hope, but he didn’t dare put any faith in it.

He focused on keeping his breathing even – to give no audible sign of his distress. _Why should he care anyway about whether or not another handler died?_ Even as he had the thought though, his throat tightened, and his eyes stung.

The Soldier watched through his rifle’s scope as Rollins leaned against the wall outside the coffee shop and lifted the paper travel cup to his lips. The wool coat was Hydra-issue, but the dark blue jeans and the flash of silver chain bracelet on Rollins’ wrist must belong to him. His hair was tousled, rather than slicked into place like it was on missions and the Soldier wondered if it felt soft or not.

Then the Soldier watched as the Commander jogged up. The Commander’s voice came through his earpiece, “Hey, Jack, what do you think of the coffee here?”

“Tastes about two bucks too expensive,” Rollins chuckled, his voice fainter, but the voice still carried through Rumlow’s comm device. “Why’d you want to meet here? You don’t usually go for places with unicorn cupcakes, Brock.”

Commander Rumlow shrugged, “It’s not too far from work.”

“Ah. Well, that makes sense. Glad you made time to get together,” Rollins said and offered Rumlow his cup.

The Commander shrugged and was quiet a moment. As the Soldier watched, Rumlow looked down, the hint of a smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. When he looked, up the Commander accepted the cup. “Well, you know me, Jack, never turn down a good time.” Then Rumlow leaned into Rollins’ space and kissed him. “And you’re a very good time.”

The bark of Rollins’s laugh as he gave Commander Rumlow a gentle shove tore at the Soldier’s heart. _What the hell was this? Was **this** what he was supposed to see – what the hell for?_ But he was missing Rollins’s response, “No way you brought me out here to flirt. Come on man – it’s me. We’ve known each other how long? A coffee shop date? Really?”

The Soldier didn’t like that level of familiarity and under his mask, he pressed his lips together in a grim line. Rollins’ fond smile and the hand that had found its way to Commander Rumlow’s hip rankled. He glowered at them both from behind the dark lenses over his eyes and tried to figure out why it bothered him so much.

Rollins was a handler. As a rule, he disliked handlers, but he didn’t want to pull the trigger when … _if_ the Commander gave the order. That wasn’t the reason. He liked the way the 2nd Commander’s face creased when he smiled, but not into what you’d call dimples. Watching Rollins’s face made him feel _what?_ What was the word for it?

He turned his attention back to Commander Rumlow, who was leaning in for another kiss. The Soldier’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his teeth tight enough to ache. _Rumlow_ was the problem. Rollins smiling like that at _the Commander_ was …intolerable.

The Soldier’s thoughts were so loud that he missed something. Rollins headed back into the coffee shop and Rumlow glanced up in his direction and spoke quietly, just for him. “All right, Asset, pack up and meet us at the extraction point.”

“Da,” he replied. Immediately, the Soldier began breaking down his rifle and packing it away. He choked down another one of the vile chocolate chip protein bars as he did so, and scanned the area one last time for traces that he’d been there before jumping down to a fire escape across the alley and then sliding silently down a drain pipe to the ground.

As he slipped noiselessly through the alleys toward their ground transport, he thought, _Why the Commander?_ Why indeed. There was another agent who’d be better. Agent T- something. Tucker. _That was it._ Tucker would be better than Rumlow. His chest still felt heavy thinking about it, but at least the idea didn’t make him want to grind his teeth or punch things.

When he got to the transport vehicle, he startled the driver by climbing in the back and closing the door, then sat on the floor in the back, arms balanced on his knees. The driver didn’t expect to talk to him, so in the quiet, the Soldier thought about Rollins’ smile and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

He felt like a real person – important – when the 2nd Commander looked at him. When Rollins smiled, a rare thing in the Soldier’s presence, it felt …like he’d received a little gift. _It’s not fair_ , he thought as the feeling in his chest settled into a dull ache.

Now the Soldier could hear their voices carrying through other conversations on the street. The two STRIKE commanders got into the passenger seats behind the driver. Rollins’ eyes settled on him briefly, but acknowledging as he sat down.

The Commander looked over the back of the seat. “Mission report time, Asset.”

He didn’t turn his head, didn’t glance at the Commander. “Target acquired, no kill order given. Returned to extraction point as ordered.”

Rumlow turned to Rollins, “See? Told you it was an in-and-out mission. Bet the Asset didn’t even break a sweat.” He wasn’t looking into the back anymore where the snow in the Soldier’s hair had melted and was trickling down the back of his collar.

The Solder stopped listening to their conversation. It didn’t matter anyway. Instead, he concentrated on the scent of their drinks from the coffee shop. One coffee – probably black – and one hot chocolate. Smelling the cocoa stirred a bone-deep sorrow within him, though he couldn’t remember why. For a moment, he stared at the space beyond the toes of his boots and then at the back of his commanders’ heads before resting his head back against the side of the transport and closing his eyes.

With any luck, the Chair would bury the memory of today’s mission too.

**Author's Note:**

> I owe Brock Rumlow's creepiest bits of dialog to my favorite Nava! :) :*** I took bits of different sections of our rps and wove them together with this story, so this is definitely a gift for you. :)


End file.
